


Beautiful

by Nerd_Queen



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 2010 Vancouver Olympics, 2018 Winter Olympics, Anal Sex, Cheating, Chris has an older brother who is a snowboarder called Felix, Happy Birthday, Happy birthday chris, Lies, M/M, Marc is an Ice Dancer, Mystery guy is called Marc, Riding, Smut, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 16:38:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13685580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerd_Queen/pseuds/Nerd_Queen
Summary: At Phichit's excitement to being in his first Olympics (And dismay at the abundance of condoms and no lube), Christophe reflects on his first Olympics, all the way back in 2010, and how he met his Mystery Man, Marc.





	Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHRISS  
> hi sorry i know i have been absent but um school n shit.  
> ANYWAY.  
> NOTES FOR THIS FIC:  
> \- Viktor is 21 when Chris is reflecting on the 2010 Olympics.  
> \- Chris is 19 at that time.  
> \- The mystery guy, Marc as I call him, is a 23 year old ice dancer at the time.  
> \- Christophe has an older brother, Felix who is 22 and on his second Olympics as a snowboarder for team switzerland.
> 
> ENJOY

“Wow.” Phichit breathed in disbelief as he sat back into the ranks of the accumulated athletes in the Pyeongchang stadium, watching intently as Korea’s pride and joy, Yuna Kim lit the Olympic torch, the Thai flag resting against Phichit’s shoulder. “I can’t believe it… I made it to the Olympics… The fucking _Olympics._ ”

“Ah, chérie, the first time is always magical.” Christophe chuckled, the weight of his country’s flag heavy on his shoulder, smiling at his young friend’s laughter. “Magical, but fucking terrifying.”

“You’re making the Olympics sound like sex.” Phichit snorted. “Can you believe they’re giving out condoms with the Olympic sigil on them? They’re fucking plain! At least make them gold, I mean _come on_.”

“And no lube, either. Tragic.” Christophe smirked. “Our sex-lives are being ruined by heterosexuals.”

“Ugh, tell me about it. How am I supposed to get some hot Olympic ass without getting hurt? Like thank fuck I brought my own.” Phichit whined.

“I think you mean Korean ass,” Christophe chuckled, following Phichit’s gaze to Seung-Gil, who was stood amongst the cluster of Untied Korean athletes. “You’re in no way subtle, petit.”

“Oh my god!” Phichit shrieked, punching Christophe in the arm, the volume causing the Korean man in question to look their way. “Shut up!”

“Aw, petit are you nervous?” Christophe teased. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, although the first time is the hardest. ~”

“Even if I had sex with him, Seung-Gil would hardly be my first.” Phichit said, rolling eyes. “He would be my first Olympian, though.” Phichit mused, biting the dark red tinting his lips.

“My first was an Olympian, in Toronto 2010.” Christophe mused, drifting his gaze to the tall, brown haired man standing nearby in the audience, blue-grey eyes staring down fondly at Christophe from the Swiss Skating Federation’s stands. “And let me tell you, that was an _experience_.”

“I’ve got time to kill, do tell.”

 

_Vancouver Olympic Opening Ceremony, February 12 th, 2010_

The cold Vancouver air tickled Christophe’s (frustratingly, at the age of 19) full cheeks, tinting the skin a rosy pink as he grinned, waving for the many cameras and cheering crowds, waving his tiny flag and following the herd of red and white clad Swiss Olympians, all obediently following the head of shiny brown hair waving the grand Swiss flag to the opening ceremony’s audience.

Viktor stood up at the front of the Russian team, recently shorn silver hair tickling the sides of his pale face, charming smile plastered on his features, the Russian flag tightly in his grip, the 21-year old Russian flying the colours of his country proudly as other Olympic delegations trickled into the stadium, fanfares and the delighted screams of the crowds filling the air.

Pride.

That was the rich feeling rising in his chest. 

Pride for his country, for his people as he marched within the ruby clad ranks of the Swiss team, smiling until his face hurt. The Olympics was going to be amazing.

 

 

He was bored, to be blunt.

Three days in Vancouver and he wasn’t competing for another two days.

Christophe sighed, sliding the guards over his skates and unlacing them, sliding them off his feet and packing them into his duffel bag.

“Oh no,” Viktor said, walking into the locker room. “What’s the sighing about?”

Christophe looked up at his friend, the older Russian having his arms behind his back and a mischievous glint in his eye. Viktor always had a flare for surprises.

“I’ve been here for three days.” Christophe sighed, taking his contact case out of the side pocket and removing his contacts, closing the case and fishing his glasses out of the bag. “And we’re not competing until Tuesday? Is it always like this?”

“Pretty much.” Viktor shrugged. “Our first competition was the day after the opening ceremony in Turin, but we didn’t get another event for like three days.”

“Why do they make us wait so long?” Christophe groaned, pulling on his trainers.

“I mean would you rather get your events out of the way and be left in the Olympic village for nearly two weeks with nothing to do?” Viktor asked, sitting down next to Christophe.

“There would be bored, horny, muscly men to do, Viktor.” Christophe joked. “I wouldn’t have to be careful if the events were out of the way, I could get fucked by hot athletes for two weeks. There are 1520 men here, excluding us. One of them has to be gay, or at least bisexual or bi-curious.”

“I honestly have no idea why you’re so intent on losing your virginity at the Olympics in a hook up. I’m not judging you, I just personally wouldn’t feel comfortable unless it’s someone I actually love.” Viktor supposed.

“We’re stuck in a 45,000 square foot complex filled with bored twenty-something-year-olds in the middle of winter for two weeks. This is prime dicking season.”

“You’re actually terrible.” Viktor chuckled, handing Christophe a red-wrapped, soft lump. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Aw, you remembered.” Christophe smiled. “I should probably call my mother, and I’m sure Felix and his alpine buddies have conjured up some birthday plot for a surprise party.”

“You’re my only friend, Chris, I’d never forget your birthday.” Viktor smiled as Christophe pulled his team jacket on.

“What about your rink mates? Y’know, Georgi, Mila, that new kid that just joined, you’re not friendly with them?” Christophe asked as he zipped the red fabric over his body.

“They’re more like my family.” Viktor admitted bashfully before changing the subject. “C’mon, let’s get going.”

Christophe nodded, slinging his bag over his shoulder and following Viktor through the halls of the rink, around the swarms of reporters to the street, flagging a taxi and heading back to the Olympic village, the last rays of the warm sun streaking across the sky as the night took hold.

By the time the pair had arrived at the Olympic village, the sky had gone dark. The soft hum of various kinds of music blaring from too loud speakers up in the room filled the air as faint laughter rung around the polished walls of the village, Christophe reaching for his ID card, showing it to the security guard stood by the door.

The lights in the common room were turned off, which was unusual, as the common room was always lit and full of athletes unwinding.

The light switched on, confetti thrown in Christophe’s face as a cheer sounded, echoing throughout the building.

“BON ANNIVERSAIRE, CHRISTOPHE!” Came the shout, the lights revealing the crimson-coated athletes of team Switzerland, mixed with various colours of other competitors.

An arm wrapped around his shoulders, squeezing him tight, Christophe looking up to see the messy honey brown hair and olive eyes of his older brother Felix, pearly teeth grinning down at him.

“Bon anniversaire, mon petit frère.” Felix grinned, hugging Christophe as a cake was pushed in his direction.

The cake was decorated with snowy white frosting, red roses iced along with perimeter of the cake as a little fondant cow sat in the middle of the cake by a blue patch of ice, black skates on its hind legs, red candles speared around the cake and _Bon_ _Anniversaire, Christophe!_ was written around the iced frozen pond in cursive red frosting.

“Did you know about this?” Christophe asked Viktor, quirking a brow when the Russian shook his head in false-innocence.

“Well, what are you waiting for, petit asticot?” Felix prompted, nudging Christophe. “Blow out those candles and make a wish.”

Christophe smiled at his older brother, leaning over and closing his eyes, blowing out the candles, a cheer sounding amongst the gathered athletes.

“WOO-HOO! LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!”

 

 

Marc Stahl was everything Christophe had dreamed of in a man, tall, strong, tanned with shoulder length burnt sienna locks tickling his sharp jaw, black V-neck taut over the broad, muscular shoulders and torso of the ice dancer, making Christophe’s mouth water.

The man in question swaggered over to the wall Christophe was leaning against as he watched the party commence in the centre of the common room, beer bottle in hand.

“What’s a pretty thing such as yourself doing alone at their own party?” Marc asked casually, stepping in front of Christophe, the ice dancer dwarfing the figure skater as a lock of dark hair hung loose as he looked down into Christophe’s eyes.

“And how did you know this was my party, hm, Mr. Stahl?” Christophe asked coyly, raising a brow, reaching a hand out and tracing Marc’s collarbone with his finger, fluttering his long lashes innocently.

“A little birdie told me that it was your birthday.” Marc hummed, eyes following Christophe’s hand, encasing his larger hand around Christophe’s slim wrists, kissing his hand. “Happy birthday. It’s a convenient day to have a birthday, I must say. February 14th… Valentines day, the supposed holiday of love and romance.”

“No partner would forget it and have to treasure me either way.” Christophe smirked over the tops of his glasses, biting his lip as Marc stepped closer, grey-blue eyes staring into Christophe’s olive intently. “They’d have to spoil me rotten all day.”

“Is that a proposition, Christophe?” Marc asked, brow quirked coyly. “Who would have thought that Switzerland’s darling angel was so naughty?”

“You, probably.” Christophe grinned, stiffening as the taller man pressed him into the wall and kissed him, hands firmly on his hips.

Christophe hummed appreciatively, arms wrapping around the other man’s neck and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Marc kissed back, biting Christophe’s lip and squeezing his hips before pulling away.

“Do you want this?” Marc asked, voice dark and dripping with want.

“Yes. My room or yours?”

Marc paused, pulling away and looking around, as if checking for something before gripping Christophe’s wrist and pulling him from the wall.

“Yours. Definitely yours.” Marc said quickly, flushing adorably when Christophe tangled their fingers together, smirking at him.

“Lead the way, chérie.” Christophe purred, stopping for a second before snorting. “Sorry. I need to lead the way. Right.” He grinned dopily, tugging Marc’s arm. “This way. ~”

Christophe led Marc through the winding halls of the Olympic complex, avoiding the partying athletes in their hedonistic, drunken stupors to his door. The tall ice dancer stumbled along, tripping over people’s feet and his own as they hurried to Christophe’s room, staggering slightly to a halt as Christophe let go of his hand to retrieve his keys, raising his brow when he saw Marc look around cautiously.

“You okay?” Christophe asked carefully, unlocking his door.

“Y-yeah.” Marc stammered awkwardly. “I was just looking out for cameras, just in case someone tries to film anything potentially law-suit worthy and post it online. Because that would be a disaster.”

“So, you’re okay with this?” Christophe asked seductively, internally praying that the sensual façade would hide his giddy nervousness as he trailed a finger along Marc’s defined collarbone.

“Yes, I’m very okay with it.” Marc smirked, taking Christophe’s hand and wrapping an arm around his waist, pulling the blond into a kiss.

Christophe kissed back, sighing happily as Marc deepened the kiss, pressing Christophe against the door and teasing his tongue over Christophe’s plush lips. Christophe hummed appreciatively, parting his lips as he reached back, hand fumbling to get a grip on the door handle, twisting it and tumbling into his room in a mess of tangled limbs.

Christophe fell backwards, embracing himself for an embarrassing fall when he felt strong arms around his waist, holding him steady.

He opened his eyes to see Marc staring back at him, arms around Christophe securely, feet planted into the floor.

“Are you okay?” Marc asked.

“You caught me… you stopped me from falling…” Christophe murmured in wonder.

“I’m an ice dancer, it’s kind of job to stop my partners from falling.” Marc grinned, pulling Christophe back upright.

“You’re so strong…” Christophe mumbled dumbly.

“Again, it’s in the job description.” Marc chuckled.

“Is being incredibly hot in job description too?” Christophe giggled, fluttering his long lashes flirtatiously. “Or are you just a fine specimen and a unique example of your discipline?”

Marc chuckled, taking Christophe’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, tipping his head up and kissing him deeply, Christophe humming appreciatively and wrapping his arms around Marc’s neck, yelping quietly when Marc turned them around and pressed Christophe against the door, causing it to click shut and the breath the rush out of Christophe’s lungs.

“You okay?” Marc asked, pulling away briefly.

“Y-yeah, just, what is it with you and shoving me against surfaces?” Christophe teased, hooking a leg around one of Marc’s.

“I like having you to myself.” Marc chuckled, pressing himself closer against Christophe, smirking at the gasp that pulled itself from Christophe’s lips, Marc’s warm hands sliding under the loose fabric of Christophe’s soft, cream coloured sweater, warm hands meeting smooth, soft skin pulled taut over slender muscle, a denim clad thigh pressing between Christophe’s legs. “And it seems you like that a lot.” Marc whispered into Christophe’s ear, lips barely touching the skin.

 _Oh **fuck.**_ Christophe thought to himself, restraining a helpless whimper, moaning as Marc nibbled his earlobe, kissing along Christophe’s jaw.

Christophe’s hands twisted in the stretchy black cotton of Marc’s t-shirt, grinding against Marc as he kissed down Christophe’s neck. Marc smirked against Christophe’s skin, deft fingers stroking over his torso, the fabric of Christophe’s sweater pooling against his wrists as his hands climbed up Christophe’s body, feeling up ever ridge of sinewy musculature.

“Marc… Marc…” Christophe groaned, head tipping back against the door, rocking against the thigh pressed so firmly between his legs, biting his lip, tugging his shirt up. “Shirt off… now, please…”

Marc removed his hands from under Christophe’s sweater, pulling away and throwing off his t-shirt, gripping the hem of Christophe’s sweater and tugging it over his head, tossing the cream fabric aside.

“Hold on,” Christophe said, hold a hand out to halt Marc’s eager charge back into the kiss. “Let me just take off my glasses.”

Marc nodded patiently as Christophe slid his glasses off, folding them and slipping them into his back pocket, trembling slightly from Marc’s intense gaze over him.

“Everything alright, beautiful?” Marc asked, cupping Christophe’s cheek.

“Yeah.” Christophe nodded, reaching his hands into Marc’s hair, tugging it slightly and pulling him into a heated kiss.

Marc groaned into the kiss, hands hot and firm on Christophe’s kiss as he deepened the kiss, tongue pushing between Christophe’s parted lips. Christophe gasped, running hand down Marc’s neck and shoulder to his wrist, gripping it and moving it down to the black nylon stretched over his plump ass, tangling his legs with Marc’s and pulling the ice dancer closer.

Marc pulled away, panting lightly, face flushed and lips swollen, parted as his impassioned gaze met Christophe’s.

“Christophe…” He murmured, watching in wonder as Christophe whimpered as he squeezed the cheek in his hand. “Such a dirty little minx. ~” He chuckled, gripping the backs of Christophe’s upper thighs, just below his ass and pulling him up.

Christophe yelped, gripping Marc’s shoulders in fear of falling.

“A little warning, maybe?” Christophe said, pouting at Marc’s laughter.

“I’ll warn you next time.” Marc chuckled, kissing Christophe’s nose. “Now wrap your legs around my waist, please?”

Christophe nodded, wrapping his legs around Marc’s trim waist, quickly kicking off his loose trainers and draping his arms over Marc’s shoulders, sighing happily as Marc gripped his ass, squeezing the supple yet firm flesh through the black nylon of his leggings. Christophe ground his hips into Marc’s, leaning down and continuing their kiss as Marc staggered to the bed in the left corner of the room, strong legs shaky as Christophe rocked his hips into Marc’s.

“Warning.” Marc said roughly, pulling away before dropping Christophe onto his bed, the latter bouncing against the soft mattress.

“Very funny.” Christophe deadpanned, sitting up and moving back into the mountains of pillows stacked against the headboard, pulling his glasses out of his pocket and setting the on the nightstand, smirking as he could barely make out Marc’s blurred figure unbuckling his belt, the steel buckle landing with a thump on the floor as the teeth of the zipper grated together, a dull purr sounding.

“Strip.” Marc commanded, kicking off his shoes and peeling off his socks, tugging down his jeans.

“So forward. ~” Christophe chuckled, hooking his thumbs under the elastic of his leggings and peeling the tight fabric off, kicking off the black mess of tight clothing and yanking his socks off.

Christophe sat back as Marc climbed onto his bed, stalking towards him on all fours, humming appreciatively at the sculpted Adonis coming into view to hover over him.

“You’re beautiful.” Marc murmured, caressing Christophe’s collarbone gently with a look of admiration, fingers brushing over the small smattering of golden hair decorating Christophe’s chest.

Christophe chuckled, cupping Marc’s cheek and pulling him into a heated kiss, hooking a leg over his hip and grinding his clothed crotch against Marc’s, the two men moaning at the friction and heat created by the thin fabric of their briefs separating them.

“God,” Marc moaned between kisses. “Christophe, the things you do to me.”

Christophe chuckled, sliding his hands down Marc’s toned body to his ass, squeezing his firm ass, tugging his boxers down slightly. Taking the hint, Marc hooked his fingers under the waistband of Christophe’s briefs, tugging them down too.

Once Christophe’s briefs were down to his lower thighs, Marc pulled away, climbing off of the bed to pull his own briefs off, Christophe kicking his own off, sighing in relief as his erection was freed of its restraints, moaning as he wrapped a hand around it, stroking his aching cock slowly, biting his lip as he swiped his thumb over the precum beading at the tip.

“Such a naughty little minx.” Marc chuckled, taking his own cock in hand, stroking the long, thick appendage slowly, stopping when he heard Christophe’s breath hitch and eyes widen. “Everything alright? We can stop if you want.”

“N-no, it’s fine.” Christophe dismissed, shaking his head. “It’s just… big.” He admitted bashfully.

“You’ve never been with someone like this?” Marc asked curiously, sitting down on the bed.

“I haven’t been with anyone.” Christophe answered, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. “At least all the way. I’ve… experimented with myself but I haven’t… not really with anyone else.”

“Oh…”

“That’s not… It’s not a turn off for you, right? I know most guys don’t want the ‘responsibility’ of being someone’s first.” Christophe sighed, making air quotes.

“It’s fine.” Marc smiled gently. “I’ll just have to take extra special care of you.”

Christophe laughed, relieved as he visibly relaxed, climbing into Marc’s lap, slinging his arms over his shoulders.

“Will you now?” Christophe hummed, straddling Marc, noses bumping gently.

“I’d be honoured to.” Marc murmured, kissing Christophe’s lips, gently taking Christophe’s ass in his hands, rubbing circles into the flesh. “Y’know, I’m still kind of surprised this is real.”

“What? My ass?” Christophe asked, brows raising. “You’re a skater, how are you surprised?”

“I’ve seen many great butts in my days, Christophe.” Marc chuckled, smacking the skin gently, watching the skin ripple over Christophe’s shoulder, smirking at the small gasp it elicited. “But yours is unreal.”

“Would you want to fuck this ass?” Christophe asked, looking up at mark through long, luscious lashes, grinning at the moan that tore itself from Marc’s lips.

“I’ve thought about nothing else for the past few months.” Marc admitted, squeezing the muscular globes of Christophe’s ass.

“Excellent. ~” Christophe purred, taking Marc’s bottom lip gently between his thumb and forefinger. “Sit back against the headboard for me, I’m just going to get the supplies from my drawer.” He winked, climbing off Marc’s lap and sauntering to the nightstand in the middle of the room, tugging open the bottom drawer and bending over, retrieving an IOC issued condom and a bottle of lube, which he brought himself, tossing the items on the bed.

Christophe climbed back onto the bed, kissing Marc roughly and climbing back into his lap, backing up slightly to allow Marc’s cock to slip between the cheeks of Christophe’s ass, rocking back against it.

Marc gripped Christophe’s ass, moaning and rocking against him before tearing himself from the kiss, grabbing the lube and pressing it into Christophe’s hands.

“I’m getting close… I won’t be able to last much longer, please, Christophe…”

“Do you want to open me up or should I do it?” Christophe asked, uncapping the bottle.

“Show me what you like, how you like to be pleasured, to be touched.” Marc whispered, a carnal hunger lacing his voice.

Christophe nodded, squeezing some of the clear liquid into his palm, slicking his fingers up and warming the lube between his fingers as he sat back on his heels, spreading his legs and gripping the left cheek of his ass with one hand, circling the rim of his hole with the lubed fingers of his other hand, hissing slightly.

“Are you okay?” Marc asked, sitting up suddenly.

“I’m fine, it’s just cold, and it’s been a little while since I touched myself like this.” Christophe assured Marc, moaning as he slid his middle finger into himself, chuckling at the silent _‘Oh’_ mark made with his lips, watching Christophe prep and open himself in silent awe.

Christophe thrusted his finger in and out slowly, speeding up and whining before adding a second finger, scissoring the pair and thrusting them in and out quickly, crooking them and moaning loudly as he hit his prostate, rocking back against his fingers and adding a third. Christophe tipped his head back as he fucked himself with his fingers, pleasure clouding his mind as he hit his prostate over and over again, moaning.

“I-I’m ready.” Christophe breathed, removing his fingers and wiping them on the bedsheets, inner walls clenching around nothing as an emptiness and an aching need to be filled enveloped him. “Please, fuck me, I need it.”

Marc nodded, blush high on his cheeks as he fumbled for the condom, tearing the foil open and fishing the latex out, pinching the tip and rolling it on with practiced ease, taking the discarded lube and drizzling some over himself, coating himself further.

Christophe bit his lip, climbing back into Marc’s lap.

“Ready?” Marc asked, kissing Christophe’s cheek.

“Yeah.” Christophe nodded, raising himself onto his knees, taking Marc’s cock in hand and positioning it against his hole, taking a deep breath, sinking down onto it slowly, a strangled cry escaping his lips.

“Hey, hey,” Marc cooed, gripping Christophe’s hips. “Slowly, slowly. Don’t force yourself, okay, beautiful?”

Christophe nodded, placing his hands on Marc’s shoulders, rocking his hips in slow circles, taking Marc into him inch by inch until his ass was pressed firmly into Marc’s lap, harsh breaths and restrained grunts and moans filling the air.

“Christophe, fuck. ~” Marc panted, nails digging into Christophe’s hips. “Are you in any pain?”

“N-no. I’m fine, just, give me a minute to adjust.”

“I’ll give you all the time in the world.”

“Now that’s just dramatic.” Christophe chuckled breathlessly, clenching around the cock inside him. “Okay,” He said, cupping the back of Marc’s neck. “I’m ready.”

Marc grinned, rolling his hips teasingly and grinding the latex covered head of his cock against Christophe’s prostate, relishing the whine that tore itself from Christophe’s throat.

Christophe gripped Marc’s shoulders, raising his hips before dropping down into Marc’s lap, an audible slap sounding as skin and taut muscles met each other, the two men moaning as Christophe repeated the action, hips jerking as Marc snapped his hips up in reply.

“Marc! ~ Marc! ~ fuck~” Christophe moaned, rocking against Marc’s thrusts, thighs starting to tremble as his mind clouded with pleasure.

“Christophe~ So good~ Fuck, so hot~” Marc moaned, gripping Christophe’s hips.

Christophe tipped his head back, moaning as he felt his core tighten and muscles tremble.

_Fuck. I’m getting close._

“Christophe, I’m close, I don’t think I can last much longer.” Marc ground out through grit teeth, moaning.

“Fuck, Marc~” Christophe moaned, kissing him. “I’m close… lets~ … together~ … please~ …”

Marc nodded, pulling Christophe into a passionate kiss, rolling him onto his back and gripping the backs of his thighs, pulling them until Christophe’s thighs touched his chest, thrusting in and out of Christophe harshly, an animalistic growl tearing itself from his throat as he kissed Christophe’s neck.

Christophe moaned, gripping Marc’s hair with one hand, the sheets with another, hips jerking with every thrust, every direct hit to his prostate. His thighs trembled in Marc’s bruising grip, back arching and muscles clenching tightly as he reached his orgasm, white ropes of cum painting his stomach in a hot, sticky, pearlescent mess.

“M-MARC! ~” Christophe cried out, shuddering as he felt the other man’s cock twitch within him, his hips jerking as a low growl rumbled from his throat.

Marc slowed his thrusts, pulling out slowly and removing the condom from his softening cock, tying it off and tossing it into the trashcan near Christophe’s bed, dropping down next to him.

“How was that for a first time?”

 

 

Christophe had awoken alone that morning. It didn’t bother him much, he knew Marc had practice early that next morning anyway.

He sat in the stands next to Viktor, heart pounding as he watched Marc and his partner, the beautiful Manon Beaumont, on the ice, twisting and swirling together beautifully, their bodies telling the story of two lovers lost in the heat of passion.

The music came to an end, applause and cheers sounding as the pair stood their final pose on the ice.

Christophe leapt to his feet, cheering loudly for Marc.

Then, suddenly, all noise died in his throat.

Marc took Manon into his arms, tucking away a lock of loose black hair affectionately, pulling the woman into a passionate kiss.

They say the heart of a figure skater is made of glass, beautiful and easy to break.

Christophe’s had just shattered into a million little pieces.

 

 

“You had sex with Marc Stahl?” Viktor asked incredulously after Christophe had run and shut himself in the men’s locker room of the Pacific Coliseum rink. “He and his partner Manon have been together for years!”

“I didn’t know! I thought they were friends!” Christophe protested, head in his hands.

“What? They were very obviously-”

The door swung open, all speech died in Viktor’s throat.

“Christophe?” Marc asked, standing in the doorway. “Are you al-”

“No.” Christophe snapped, voice shaking as he stood up. “You don’t get to ask, to pretend you give a shit-”

“What? N-no, Christophe, let me expla-” Marc stammered, sentence cut off by the swift backhand Christophe landed on his cheek. “Christophe, please-”

“No. I won’t let you hurt me any more than you have. Goodbye.” Christophe replied curtly, pushing past Marc into the cold hallway of the rink, wiping the tears from his eyes, heart aching in his chest.

 

 

“What?!” Phichit shrieked. “Nononono, you can’t just leave the story there. Not now, Chris, you can’t just leave me hanging-”

“Sorry, chérie, I’m up now.” Christophe shrugged apologetically. “Another time.”

“Are you serious?!” Phichit whined.

Christophe chucked at the younger man, walking out of the green room to the rink-side, stooping to remove his guards. Once he held the thick plastic guards in his hands, he looked up, his olive gaze meeting a familiar grey-blue, a warm hand taking his guards and sliding the team jacket off his shoulders.

“Merci, mon bijou.” Christophe purred, stepping onto the ice, a mesh clad hand cupping his lover’s cheek, pulling him into a tender kiss.

“Win gold for us.” Marc murmured, kissing Christophe’s hand. “Prove everyone wrong, beautiful.”

Christophe grinned, letting go and gliding to the centre of the ice, waving the audience.

“NOW ON ICE,” Boomed the announcer. “REPRESENTING SWITZERLAND IN HIS THIRD OLYMPICS; CHRISTOPHE GIACOMETTI!”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: nerdqueensblogbitches.tumblr.com  
> nsfw: nsfwofnerdqueen.tumblr.com   
> The next chapters of my ongoing shit will be posted soonish.


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